It’s autumn in the country I remember. How warm a wind blew here about the ways! And shadows on the hillside lay to slumber During the long sun-sweetened summer-days. It’s cold abroad the country I remember. The swallows veering skimmed the golden grain At midday with a wing aslant and limber; And yellow cattle browsed …
Poem – Trumbull Stickney “Sir, say no more”
Sir, say no more. Within me ’tis as if The green and climbing eyesight of a cat Crawled near my mind’s poor birds. – Trumbull Stickney (1874 – 1904) I love good metaphor poems. I remember reading this many years ago, and a garbled version of it has stuck in my head ever since …
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A Dark Feathered Art 